Oklahoma kiss

by Unknown

  "Finally my father got his belly full and he told me if I didn't learn to take up for myself and fight my own battles, he'd give me a thrashing I would never forget. I guess I was more terrified of George, though, than I was of Papa, because I just learned to run a little faster." Adam chuckled dryly over the memory. "Then it all came to a head one day when my little brother and I had a penny to spend. We'd dug on Papa's water well all week long —it was probably the hardest work we ever did in our lives. We went to the mercantile and spent it all on peppermint sticks and licorice whips. When we walked out the door, we came face to face with George Yates. I’ll never forget how I felt when I saw him. If he had only demanded part of our candy, more than likely we would have given it to him without a fight . . . but he wanted it all." Adam laughed again. "I remember praying to God, not to let George kill me, then I doubled up my fist, closed my eyes, and hit him right in the nose. Blood squirted everywhere when he fell backwards and tumbled down the steps—seems I broke his nose. That day, he was the one who went home crying to his papa . . . but he never bothered us again."

  "You poor dear," Blair murmured softly.

  "Oh, I am grateful to George! He taught me two of the most important lessons I've learned in my life. One is: never to run away from a fight when someone is throwing his weight around. The second is: anything worth having is worth fighting for." He looked at her intently; his eyes were wistful and contemplative.

  Then, a slow smile spread across his face. Talking about George and the lessons he learned had brightened his mood. It had placed his feelings and worries about Blair in their proper perspective. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the table. "I noticed a punch bowl over here, I'll buy you a cup."

  "Oh, there is no charge for it."

  Adam chortled. "I know. That was just a figure of speech."

  A warm, delicious glow settled over her; she felt blissfully happy, fully alive. Adam's casual manner of touching her seemed so intimate, yet so tender, gentle, and innocent. To her, it revealed more of his inner feelings than she'd seen thus far. He was falling in love with her! She just knew he was!

  Adam handed her a cup of punch then filled one for himself. Lemonade punch was not his favorite refreshment, but since there were no beer kegs setting on the tables, it would have to do.

  Blair took a sip of her lemonade as they walked away from the serving table. "Adam, there was something you said to Bobby that confuses me. If you don't suspect him of anything, why are you eager to question him? I know what you said but somehow, it doesn't sound quite right."

  "You are very observant," he said admiringly. "Most people wouldn't have noticed. Without knowing very many people here, all I have to go on are my hunches and what I am told. More than one person has made it a point to tell me that Bobby is spending more money in a week than he usually spends in a year. Up until a few weeks ago, he worked for a local freight company but still wore patched clothing and never had two nickels to rub together. He quit his job; now suddenly he has money in his pockets. He has decked himself out with new clothes and has been seen flashing a wad of bills large enough to choke a horse. It makes me wonder how he is getting it and where. When I combine those questions with the thick stack of complaints I have on my desk about missing cattle, the answers are fairly obvious."

  "Adam, after listening to your explanation, I understand why you have reached those conclusions. Now, I don't want you to think I am trying to interfere because I also understand that you have to do your duty as you see fit. Bobby may have been my nemesis, but I hate to see anyone taken advantage of. To put it bluntly, Bobby is not like most people, he is . . . simple-minded." She paused, then said in a rush, "I doubt if he is smart enough to figure out how to steal that many cattle and sell them without getting caught long before now."

  "If you're trying to say he is nothing but a small cog in a huge wheel, I have already reached that conclusion. I don't want Bobby; if I arrest him, he will just be replaced. I want the man who is behind all of this."

  Adam stopped abruptly when he heard loud voices coming from the other end of the stockade. "Stay here, Blair. It sounds like a fight breaking out." He threaded his way through the crowd, unaware that Blair decided to follow him.

  When he reached the fight, what he saw made him furious. Two men —standing with their backs to Adam —held a man while another plowed into him with doubled fists. Regardless what the man had done, nothing justified such brutal, inhuman treatment.

  "All right, he's had enough, let him go!" Adam shouted over the pandemonium.

  The man with doubled fists paused long enough to glare at Adam and ask in a sneering tone, "Says who? Another Injun lover? Just wait right there a minute, you son of a bitch; as soon as I'm through with him, I'll take care of you!"

  The man did not even have time to draw back his fist before Adam cleared leather with his guns.

  "Go ahead and hit him again, and my friends and I will personally guarantee that you'll be missing two eyes," Adam stated coldly.

  The man's gaze flicked to Adam, then to his guns. Then a slow but unsure smile spread across this face. "You wouldn't shoot a man for whipping an Injun."

  Adam said, "I haven't seen a man whipping an Indian." The man grinned and started to let go with his fist, then froze when he added, "I see three pieces of cowardly scum beating on one man. Now turn him loose!" He jabbed one of his guns in the man's ear who was standing closest to him. "Or do you need some friendly persuasion?"

  They released the man and he slumped to the ground moaning with pain. Blair breathlessly arrived. Her eyes widened from shock when she saw who the man was. She uttered a pathetic cry and ran to him. Kneeling, she cradled his head against her breast and cried, "Coy! Adam, it's Coy! My God, what have they done to him?" Adam's jaw muscles tensed and his nostrils flared. He drew from an inner source of will ; power to hold his fury in check. To the men who had been holding Coy, he spoke callously, "All right you two, get over there with your friend." After they joined the man who had been swinging his fists, he bolstered one gun while keeping the I other leveled at them. "Which one wants to tell me who started this?"

  "I know you're holding the gun, but other than that, what gives you the right to ask questions?" one man queried sullenly.

  Adam smiled but it was cold and humorless. He opened his coat, revealing the badge pinned to his vest. "This does!"

  The man shook his head and smirked. "Don't mean nothing to me, not here in Injun territory."

  "That's where you are mistaken." In case the men had friends who were foolish enough to challenge their impending arrest, Adam raised his voice so that all who had gathered around could hear. "I am a deputy marshal on special assignment out of Judge Parker's court. If anybody wants to question my being here in this capacity, you're welcome to come by my office at the train depot and read the letter authorizing me to uphold the law for everybody—that means Indians and whites alike." Turning his attention back to the man, he stated tersely, "I'll ask once more —with the warning that I'm tired of repeating myself—who and what started this?"

  "He tripped me . . . deliberately." The man pointed to Coy.

  "Do you have witnesses?"

  The man grinned, sly like a cunning fox. "Sure I do, my two friends here."

  Still holding his gun on the men, Adam chanced a quick glance at Coy. His face had been beaten to a bloody pulp, and there was no telling how many body punches he had taken. "Even if what you claim is the truth, does it justify such a brutal beating?"

  The man started to reply when suddenly, a childish voice piped up, "But that really wasn't how it happened, Mr. Marshal. Most of these people standing 'round could tell you if they just would." A little boy walked up and stood beside him.

  Still keeping a close eye on the men, Adam knelt down. "Suppose you tell me what happened. Sonny."

  "My name's not Sonny, it's Dustin."

  "All right . . . Du
stin. How old are you?"

  "S-seven.'

  "Where do you live?"

  "In a wagon with Ma and Pa. We're gonna claim us some land and Pa is gonna teach me how to farm!" he said proudly.

  "I see. Now suppose you tell me what happened here."

  "Well, that man who's bleeding did trip that mean old bully, but it was after he poked fun and poked fun . . . and he even pushed me down when I told him he wasn't being nice."

  "Who pushed you down?"

  "The mean old bully."

  "Was he the one poking fun?"

  "Yeah, and he called him a whole bunch of names, too, but I can't say words like asshole, and bastard, and pisshead, 'cause my ma would wash my mouth out with lye soap. I think I can say, ‘stinking half-breed,' though. They don't sound like I nice words, but my ma says my hair stinks all the time —even after I wash it and she don't wash her mouth out with soap." He looked at the crowd accusingly. "Don't know why they didn't try to help him, though. My pa always told me it wasn't right to fight, but he also said sometimes a body has to fight to keep the peace. Never rightly knew what he meant, but I think it has something to do with goings on such as this."

  "Your pa is a very smart man, Dustin, and one day you'll know exactly what he meant."

  Anxiously looking about, the little boy said, "I gotta go now 'cause I'm not supposed to be here, I only came because my friend told me they always had chocolate cake at dances, and it's been a long time since I ate a piece of cake."

  Before Adam could stop him, the little boy darted away.

  By this time, almost everybody attending the dance had gathered around to see what all of the excitement was about.

  Warren, Samuel, and Collin were at the back of the stockade discussing cattle and had ignored the ruckus, but when word was passed that Coy had been involved, they pushed their way through the crowd and helped their brother to his feet. Then when Warren got a good look at Coy, he muttered a curse and lunged for the men. It took four of his friends to hold him back.

  Adam realized tempers could quickly get out of hand, and since the crowd's opinion was obviously divided, he had to do something to prevent chaos from breaking out. "Warren, I know how you feel, but that won't solve anything. The best thing you can do right now is to take Coy to a friend's house or over to the hotel and see how badly he is hurt. Not knowing his condition, I doubt if he should make that long trip out to the ranch."

  Not wanting Warren and his brothers to think the men might go free, he told the three men, "All right, you are all under arrest."

  "What for? For calling him a stinking half-breed? There ain't no law against speaking the truth."

  Adam's voice was stern, with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. "The charge is assault, and I'm liable to think of several more if you don't shut up!"

  "No," Coy mumbled through swollen lips. "I don't want to press charges."

  "Are you sure?" Adam asked incredulously. Then the thought quickly crossed his mind that Coy might be afraid the men would retaliate if he allowed him to put them in jail.

  Coy swiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the side of his hand. "Damn right, I’m sure," he mumbled thickly. "I plan to catch them one at a time and give them a dose of their own medicine." Even suffering from severe pain, he brandished his fist at them. "This has your name on it, you mangy sons of bitches!"

  "Any time, half-breed, any time!"

  "That's enough!" Adam shouted. "One more word out of any of you and I’ll personally charge you with disturbing the peace!"

  A faceless man in the crowd spoke up, "You do that, Injun lover, and I’ll have their fine paid before you can get them locked up!"

  Adam slowly looked in the direction where the voice came. "If whoever said that wants to step forward, I’ll gladly remove my guns and my badge and walk with him around back." The crowd became deathly silent as he waited. But no one stepped forward.

  Reluctant to let the men go, Adam had no other choice since Coy was unwilling to file charges. And although he had been publicly challenged, he could not allow his personal pride or feelings to stand in the way of his duty. "It's against my better judgment but you men are free to go. I don't even want to hear of you causing trouble again, though. If I do, I'll throw you under the jail! That's no threat either, it's a promise!"

  Even though Blair had been busy attending to Coy, she had heard everything. Rage, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes as she stood and turned and glared at Adam. "For your information, I am about to disturb the peace. If you want to throw me into jail, you can, but not before I've spoken my mind."

  Adam's voice was heavy with sarcasm but it was not directed at Blair. "After what has happened here, disturb the peace all you want. If there are any complaints, I’ll pay your fine myself . . . even before I can get you locked up!"

  She then turned and stared accusingly at the people, most of whom she had known all of her life; she also noticed they were all whites. "I heard what that little boy said, how you all stood around and watched those . . . hooligans beat Coy almost senseless. He said no one objected. Why didn't someone try to stop them?" When no one said anything, she wrinkled her nose and scornfully tossed her head. "I can understand you women for not protesting, but you who call yourselves, men . . . Mr. Perkins, Mr. Smith, Mr. Radigan, shame on you! Shame on all of you! If you were too scared to help Coy, at least you could have called for help."

  Jory Radigan stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. "I don't care if you are a woman and that your brothers are standing behind you,"—he glanced behind him —"I think I speak for most of us here. We're not about to stand here and be talked to like this by an impertinent, smart-mouthed, half-breed squaw!"

  Adam moved forward threateningly, but Blair stopped him. "No, please, he has more on his mind so let him have his say, especially since he is speaking for all of these fine people of Doughtery."

  "He doesn't speak for me," someone said.

  "Or me!"

  "Me, either!"

  The crowd quickly separated into two groups, each side about equal in number.

  Feeling brave with so many people supporting him, Radigan wagged his finger at Blair. "I've always hated the sight of you! You had everything you ever wanted, a fine home, a good education," he scathingly raked his eyes over her, "and pretty clothes, while my little Kate had to work in our store and wear gingham check just to help make ends meet. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if you hadn't told lies against her and made all the young folks hate her. You're the reason why my little Kate ran away from home! And your entire family is just alike, all of you are good-for-nothing, half-breed trash!"

  "Trash!" she spat out the word contemptuously. "What makes you think that?"

  "Because it's not right for murdering redskins to have better than whites! But, mark my words, times are changing and as soon as the land is opened to whites, it won't be long before trash such as you are sent back where you belong. Then decent folks can own good land and properly provide for their families." He shook his head sadly. It's too late for my little Kate, but it isn't too late for others."

  Blair's eyes flashed with indignation. She clenched her hands so tightly, her nails dug painfully into her palms, yet she scarcely noticed. "Let me ask you something, Mr. Radigan. Where do you suggest they send us? To Tennessee? Alabama? That is where we came from. That is where our people lived for hundreds of years until people like you forced my people to leave! I believe you also mentioned that Indians should not have good land. It so happens, when my grandfather and grandmother first came here, they barely eked out a living on this red clay soil. Fortunately, there was plenty of wild game and my grandfather was an excellent marksman, and my grandmother had knowledge of what wild food was good to eat, or they would have starved to death the first two or three winters. It was only through hard work and by the sweat of their brows that they survived and turned this land into somethi
ng productive and worthwhile. Thank God, all whites are not like you, just like all Indians are not murdering savages! You seem to think all we own was handed to us as a gift. Apparently you are not smart enough to know how much work goes into a ranch! My brothers have worked from daylight until dark to make the ranch successful, but they are no different than so many others in this community. I had my share of chores too; keeping the stables cleaned out was one of them, so don't you dare complain about your precious Kate having to work in your store while I was shoveling horse manure!"

  "Regardless of what you say, it still isn't right for Indians and breeds to have better than whites! If my little Kate . . ."

  "I’m tired of hearing about your precious little Kate! She weighed at least two hundred pounds by the time she was twelve, and if she had kept her hands out of the candy jars, maybe your store would have been more prosperous! As I told you a minute ago, my father, brothers and grandfather are the men responsible for making our ranch successful, but it was not always so. There is one year in particular that I can recall how scarce money was. When Warren sold the cattle, he bought each of us a small bag of candy from your store. I hoarded my candy because I knew it was all I would get until he could sell more cattle. I made the mistake of showing it to your precious little Kate. When she told me that she had licked each piece in the candy jar, I threw mine away because I had the silly notion if I ate after her, I would be just like her and I could not stomach that thought. I could talk for hours and still not tell everything I know about her. But for your information, no one liked her because she was a braggart, a liar, a cheat, and a thief!"

  "Hush your tongue, you half-breed squaw!" Radigan raised his hand to strike Blair, but Adam caught his hand.